


grandfather eternal

by DragonFawns



Series: 12th Doctor Drabbles [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cuddling, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, clara flashback, grandfather!Twelve, non-romantic, paternal!Twelve, the doctor is bill's adorable space dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 18:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11515266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonFawns/pseuds/DragonFawns
Summary: Bill is upset and the Doctor shows his paternal side by comforting her (pre-s10e11)





	grandfather eternal

Soft late-evening sunlight shone gently through the kitchen window, past the parted curtains, and onto a small table tucked next to it. The light revealed dust motes slow-dancing through the air, curving down towards the wooden tabletop only to be caught in a current and whisked upwards and outwards once again. The source of the air current was a warm breeze blowing in through the open window. It caught the steam from two mugs of tea sitting on the table, blowing it softly away from the face of the woman sitting at the table. One mug of tea was directly in front of her with her small hands curled around it for comfort, while the other sat at the opposite and empty end of the table. Her bushy mane of brown hair shone bright as the sunlight formed a halo around her head. The entire scene would have radiated with coziness and warmth, if it wasn't for the lonely expression on the woman’s face. 

The woman, Bill, began to speak in a whisper. “Sometimes I just don’t know what my life is anymore, mum. I appreciate everything the Doctor has done for me, especially letting me become his student at the University, but I still have no idea what to do with my life. I’d love to keep traveling with him, but I know it won’t be forever. I want to have a life here on Earth, but I can’t even accomplish anything on my own!” Her voice had grown louder as she spoke, and she looked towards the empty end of the table in despair. Silent tears ran down her cheeks, down the corners of her frown and onto her light denim jacket. “And since the Monks, it’s been harder and harder to picture you with me, and now I can’t even do it at all!” 

Bill lowered her head again, staring into her distorted reflection in her untouched cup of tea as the tears fell. Robotically, she stood up and picked up both of the full mugs, dumping them in the sink. She turned on the faucet, unflinching as she used the ice-cold water to clean the tea remnants from the bottoms of the cups. She set them upside-down on a folded towel next to the sink, and then turned back towards the table. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again, choosing instead to cover her face with her hands and lean against the countertop for support. She sniffled, sighed, and put her hands down while blinking the last tears from her eyes. Her feet carried her towards the apartment door, eager to get away from the small table that seemed even emptier than normal with the lack of her mother’s comforting apparition. 

Stepping out onto the almost-empty pavement, Bill began to walk, not caring where she ended up. Her mother always said walking was good to clear your head. Without realizing it, Bill began to head toward the University, subconsciously seeking out her other source of comfort; the Doctor. Half in a daze, she only fully registered where she was going when she started walking down the secluded University hallway towards the Doctor’s office. She sniffled and gave a half-smile as she heard faint music coming from behind his closed door. It sounded like Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5, played by an electric guitar. 

Bill raised her hand to the big wooden door, knocking softly four times. She got no response, so she knocked louder. This time, the guitar stopped playing, and the Doctor’s deep voice called out, “Enter.” 

Bill slowly pushed the door open, and cleared her throat. “H-hey, Doctor. I know it’s not the time we normally meet up for tutoring or adventures or anything, but I just thought I might-“

“What’s wrong, Bill?” The Doctor’s eyebrows curved in an expression of sharp concern, a frown twisting the corners of his mouth. When she entered, he had been leaning back in his large office chair, feet crossed casually on his desk, guitar laying across his lap. Now he stood, setting his guitar gently down on his chair, which spun slightly from his quick change in position. He crossed the room to stand in front of Bill, leaning back on his desk with his hands propping him up on both sides. His open posture and worried face made Bill smile, though her eyes were still pained.

“W-who said anything was wrong? I’ve only been here for a few seconds.” She countered, not meeting his eyes.

The Doctor widened his eyes and shifted his weight, lifting one hand to wave it around as he spoke. “Well, for starters, you barely ever visit me outside of our normal times. I assumed you were always out doing boring student stuff, like dates and dancing and eating vegetables. Vegetables are boring, they’re way too green and stringy to be enjoyed by any reasonable person.” Seeing that his humorous tone hadn’t made her smile, the Doctor’s expression fell slightly, and he stepped closer to her. "You’re also barely looking at me, and when you do, it’s with that annoying happy-sad smile. I don’t even know why you humans do that; it’s so confusing! Tell me, Bill. What’s wrong?” 

“I just, I-I just-“ Bill began to speak, but her voice broke, and fresh tears began to fall from her eyes. She took in a lungful of air and continued in a breathy rush, “I’m so conflicted about everything and I usually go to my mum for advice but she’s not even really alive and now she’s not even showing up when I try to imagine her and I have no one else to go to because my foster mum is horrible at advice even if she means well and I can’t make friends or do anything meaningful with my life by myself and Ijustcan’tdealwitheverything!” She gasped for breath, tears flowing faster. Her arms curled around her sides in a self-hug as she cried. 

The Doctor made a slow movement towards her, hands spread slightly, as if approaching a cornered animal. He made a quick assessment of her with his eyes. Human female, currently suffering from a panic attack, in need of comfort, low on iron. He reached out to her, pulling her gently to his chest. She tucked her chin underneath his head, and he held his hands out at different angles awkwardly before slowly resting them on her back. He felt her tears against his shirt collar and an empathetic stab of pain in his hearts as she shuddered against him. 

“Bill, Bill, Bill. I-it’s okay. I promise. It’s okay. You’re safe with me and you always will be.” The Doctor spoke in a voice just above a whisper. Bill felt his chest vibrate as he spoke, the low and rumbling Scottish growl comforting to her ears. He sidestepped slowly, still holding her close to his chest, and began to back them towards the small, plush sofa in front of one of his large office windows. The sun had just set, and soft light still shown through the window. He sat down carefully, pulling a cushion on to his lap and allowing Bill to lay her head on it. She curled around his side, facing his chest as she cried, resting her top half on the pillow in his lap. 

“Do you want to keep talking about it?” He asked with a frown, slightly unsure of how to continue without upsetting her further. His current body wasn’t very familiar with comforting others, physically or emotionally. He took it as a good sign that she hadn’t already fled from his office.

“N-not really,” Bill answered, her voice muffled by the pillow, the Doctor’s starry-print sweater, and her tears. She moved closer to him, burying her face in his chest and curling her hands into the sides of his jacket. He got a strange sense of deja-vu, and for a brief instant, Bill’s curly hair turned into long, sleek brown hair. Instead of a denim jacket and leggings, the woman on his lap wore a navy cardigan, a red plaid skirt, and black tights. For some reason, he remembered the sound of soft piano music and the scent of books, dried leaves, and tea. He looked down in and blinked in surprise, but the vision was gone as quickly as it came. The Doctor suddenly felt more familiar with the situation. He moved his hands, one to slowly comb through Bill’s hair, and the other to rest gently on her side. Her tight grip on his jacket lessened slightly. 

“Did I ever tell you about the time I met a god?” He spoke softly, continuing without waiting for her response, “Well, not an actual god, but close enough by my standards. He was a giant, parasitic, sentient sun, feeding off the souls and memories of his followers. I went there a while ago, with someone, but it must’ve been a long time ago. I can’t quite remember them. The sun's name was Akhaten, and...“ 

The Doctor’s voice faded to comforting background noise in Bill’s ears, and her shoulders stopped shaking. Minutes passed until he looked down at her again. He did so, and the sound of a gentle, caring smile creeped into the tone of his voice. Her breathing was slowing, and he noticed that she had stopped crying. Lifting his hand from her hair, he pressed it to her temple. Sure enough, she had fallen asleep. The Doctor shifted slightly to make himself more comfortable, finishing the last of his story quietly to the open air. “The Queen of Years and all the Sun-singers of Akhet helped me sooth him to sleep. They sung a song of peace, strength, and life. It really was quite beautiful. I thought it was for Akhaten, but someone told me later that it sounded like they were singing to me. Singing to support the old god, the eternal grandfather. Of course, I didn’t believe it then, because I felt so young. My old body made it hard for me to acknowledge how old I truly am. I guess ‘grandfather’ is an apt description of me now."

“Oh, Bill. What am I going to do with you?” He sighed contentedly, for once choosing to enjoy the moment instead of worrying about possible futures and forgotten pasts. Absentmindedly, he resumed stroking her hair, and reached for a book sitting on the side table next to the sofa. 

Hours later, when Nardole entered the room through the large oak door, he laughed quietly as he took in the rare sight. The Doctor had fallen asleep on the sofa with Bill still laying in his lap. His book had tumbled to the floor, and one of his hands was tangled in her hair. Her arms were tucked underneath his jacket and her head was resting on his chest. Nardole walked over, closing the curtains and dimming the room’s lights before entering the TARDIS. 

Grandfather indeed.


End file.
